Caged
by Alisn Gimerveille
Summary: Post-"Good Form". A possible scenario between Peter Pan and the possible prisoner of the second cage. Tears clouded her vision, making it hard for her to see Pan's face. "You monster!" She pounded on his chest, and he let her.


Disclaimer: I do not own Peter, Wendy or any other OUAT character.

Author's note: First time to write a Darling Pan Fic! I've shipped them so hard since I was a kid and OUAT may make or break me. Read and let me know your thoughts! You can take it as slightly romance, or Pan just being his usual sadistic self.

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Wendy Darling felt mightily uncomfortable. She sat in a cage, like a princess waiting for her savior. But she knew the truth; there would be no Knight in Shining Armor for her. Leaves coated the bottom, wooden bars were her walls, suspended upon a string so that it would be harder for her to escape. She would have cried, but all her tears were spent by this point. The soft swaying of her cage failed to bring her comfort. Usually, she imagined it was her mother rocking her. The winds whistling between the wooden bars were her Mother's lullaby. By imagining the comforts of her London home, she would fall asleep. Then, she'd wake up and the dream would shatter.

Tonight was different. She couldn't fall asleep, try as she might to make herself the least bit comfortable. Peering out from between the bars, she could see another cage beside her. Poor soul! Another captive of Pan's no doubt. Focusing her gaze, she could make out the shape of…a man? Wendy shook her head, even if there was no one to see. No, it must be a boy. What use does Pan have for a man or, thought Wendy bitterly, a girl for that matter? She curled her fists on the wood and squeezed, as if she could destroy the cage through the sheer force of her will.

"Ah!"

She cradled her hands together. Examining her palms she could not see scarlet for the darkness shadowed her, but she felt blood upon her palms. She wiped it on the remains of her dress, not the nightgown she wore when she was still naïve and thought magic to be good, but a new one that Pan brought her. She wondered at first where Pan could get dresses on this island, but then Pan could get whatever he wanted. It looked and felt just like her old nightgown-soft, fragile, breakable. She wasn't given any shoes. It was a strategy. Even if she were to escape, she wouldn't be able to run very far without thorns and sticks poking at her feet and branches snagging at the white lace and her chestnut hair.

She sighed, a deep and weary sigh that did not suit a young girl of her age. But what age was she now really? She grappled blindly among the leaves until she found what she was looking for-a small pebble. "Perfect.", she whispered softly. She couldn't call upon the sleeping prisoner for surely the Lost Boys would hear, but she'd at least try to catch his attention. He could keep her company and tell her his story. Oh how she loved stories!

She was just preparing to take aim, when suddenly, she lost her balance. The soft swaying turned into an insistent rocking. Her cage was being pulled down. "Oh no…"

Upon reaching the ground, the door was opened and she was yanked out. She fell down to her knees on the Neverland soil, tall green trees surrounding her and another, while the bright stars twinkled above. She sat, facing the ground, not daring to look up for fear of seeing her liberator. She knew it couldn't be a savior. She lost hope a long time ago. Well, perhaps not entirely, she amended. For now she hoped with all her heart that it was just a Lost Boy. Perhaps one of the Boys needing sewing, or a story…Any Lost Boy would've been fine, just not…

"Hullo Wendy."

Wendy would know that cruel, charming voice anywhere. Hesitantly, she looked up, and found Pan standing before her like the king that he was. He was wearing a grin sharp enough to cut glass.

"What do you want Pan?" Wendy bit out. She would strangle him if she could; Neverland had made her as wild as any Lost Boy. But she wasn't, not truly. She couldn't hear Pan's wicked melody, for she knew in her heart that she would find her family again.

"None of that, Wendy-Lady." Pan admonished. He would have fit perfectly in London. His accent made her feel more homesick. "Call me 'Peter' like you used to."

"Ha!" His request made her laugh. "It was a long time ago Pan." She whispered softly, but loud enough that Pan heard her. At this point, he had crouched down making their eyes level. She refused to look down; she refused to cower in front of him.

Slowly, he reached out a long finger to her cheek. Wendy fought not to flinch. He traced the curve of her cheek upwards to her soft hair, winding one riotous curl around his finger. "If you promise to be good," he whispered, "I'll let you out of the cage."

"If I promise to be good," She stared hard at him "Will you let me out of Neverland?" She asked with mock sweetness. He tugged sharply upon her hair, and she felt pain bloom upon her scalp. 'I will not cry.' She promised herself. He stood up and paced, like a panther in the dark.

He faced her and she could see that the knife grin was back, "Of course not, girl! You're my hostage!" He laughed, a terrible laughter. "How else could I make your dear brothers do my bidding? What were their names again?" He pretended to ponder, "Johnny? Mike? No, I remember now. John and Michael, right?"

At this point, Wendy could take it no longer. The mere mention of her brother's name upon his foul lips sent her into frenzy. She leapt at him, claws bared, like a lioness going in for the kill. She knew he could appear and disappear at will, which was why she expected a hard landing, face first into the soil. She did not expect him catching her, them falling down together, and him under her cushioning her fall. She wondered why later, but now her thoughts were of her brothers and Bae, her mother, and father. Tears clouded her vision, making it hard for her to see Pan's face. "You monster!" She pounded on his chest, and he let her. When she tried to scratch his eyes out, he gripped her hands in his and held it between them. Wendy took long, deep breaths and tried to calm herself. He brought them back up, and she found herself sitting face to face with Pan, him still holding her hands in his grasp.

"If…" She took shuddering gasps "If I can't leave Neverland anyway, why is it necessary for you to lock me up in a cage?" He looked at her, long and steady. This time she looked down avoiding his intense scrutiny. "Because last time, you were trying to leave using an enchanted kite. You know that if you cross Neverland's border, you'll…" He paused, and then started again. "Die. You'll die Wendy. You know that and you'd still do it just so I'll no longer have any leverage over your brothers. That's who you are, just like a mother who'd throw herself in front of a bus to save her child."

Wendy did not reply because she knew he was right. She noticed that her hands were still held by him and moved to tug it away. But he held her tighter, and brought her palms closer to his face.

"You injured yourself." He said softly. He licked her palm lightly to get rid of some of the blood. Wendy shivered and berated herself. He let go of her hands and reached out behind him. He shoved his water container under her nose and ordered, "Drink."

Wendy turned her head away like a petulant child. "Come on Wendy. You've drunk from the spring before." Still, she refused to move. Pan sighed as if she were no longer amusing. "I'll count to three for you to drink yourself. 1….2….3!"

Wendy wondered what he meant by that when she felt a hard grip on her chin. Pan turned her head towards him, and quick as a flash, drank from the container and drew her lips against his. He forced her lips open, demanding and unyielding, just like the wild boy that he was. Wendy was forced to drink. Her lips were soft and pliant, and she tasted of milk and dreams. It was a taste uniquely hers.

Peter Pan felt pain on his lower lip and withdrew. Wendy had bit him in retaliation, anything to stop his forceful kiss. She felt nothing she told herself, she did not shiver in delight nor did she yearn. Immediately she knew she was lying. "Peter." She whispered and realized her mistake. She clamped her hands on her mouth and chanced a glance at the boy in question. It was still his knife grin, however it seemed more jubilant and softer, rounded at the edges. Wendy shook her head the second time that evening. She was just imagining things. Looking at her palms she could see that the wounds had indeed healed already.

Peter Pan brought her to stand from where she sat, and she expected to spend a lonely night at her cage again. Instead, "There's someone I'd like you to meet Wendy, a story lover just like you. I'm sure you'll get along perfectly well together."


End file.
